Court Intrigues
by oldstuff
Summary: It's as if all the interesting men were born in your generation."


**Court Intrigues**

**By: Gwyn**

"_It's as if all the interesting men were born in your generation." Aly _

A soft voice that she was all too familiar with whispered in her ear, startling her as she reached for her lock picks. "Little maid, little maid. As part of the household of the Balitangs, shouldn't you be helping their gracious nobilities unpack?" There was ever so slight a stress on the word 'shouldn't', as though he knew full well why she wasn't there, and felt the need to point out the incriminating evidence.

Inwardly Aly cursed herself, the darking she had been bringing to the prince's room wriggling in her suddenly tight grasp. Sensing danger, it slid up the back of her arm to settle in under her tunic, in the little hollow of her breastband. Perhaps the little creature knew that it was the only place where bumps were not considered bizarre. The feel of the cool, liquid darking against her skin calmed her racing heart.

No man- no human, really- should be so cursed quiet, but Taybur was. Her father would have adored him as a spy—he seemed to walk on air, not ground—but one spy's treasure was another spy's downfall.

In this case, hers.

She decided to play the part of the frightened maid. "Begging your pardon, sir-"

"Taybur," he corrected politely, leaning against the wall. "No maid's memory is that lacking, my dear." He was amused, she could tell.

_And what exactly was our little Captain doing here tonight? _she wondered thoughtfully.She had checked the roster and had beguiled the two guards in front of the room for some wine. The two guards in question were in the privies, crouching moodily and making nauseating noises. Both had stomach-wrenching diarrhea.

"Me ma always said I was a scatterbrained devil," she jabbered, acting nervous and blabbering exactly as a frightened maid would. "Never could 'member much, always misplacin' things-"

"But here I was, thinking your mother abandoned you when you were born. A traveling Player who ran out and left you and your father and sisters." Taybur raised an eyebrow questioningly, dancing eyes mocking her for the slip-up. He had expected it, judging by his laughing eyes.

For the second time in scant seconds, Aly mentally slapped herself. Whatever the interest this man had taken in her, he had excellent sources, whetting her admiration for him even as she cursed her own scatterbrained stupidity. Few people knew the past she had created for herself, but he had discovered it like she could discover court intrigues—quickly, efficiently, effortlessly. Aly knew she should feel nervous, but the same reckless joy that she had felt at the lunar eclipse possessed her—here, finally, was a man who had probably been weaned on the same tricks she had. A man whom she could use the finer points of spying.

First thing first—give him a good tidbit of information to knock him off the first blunder. "Oh, sir, don't tell!" She lowered her eyes and let several tears spring up. Eyes sparkling, she turned up and looked at him with feigned fright. "Topabaw sent me, to lure the guards away. He's threatening me, he'd kill me now if he found out. I don't know why he sent me, he just ordered me to drug the guards and leave! I'm sorry, I didn't want to—" she babbled hysterically and broke into furious sobs. Her father had made her rehearse tears for years—tears were one of the most useful tools a spy could employ. It was sometimes the difference between life and death.

Her sobs soon slowed into shuddering hiccups. She glanced up, wiping her eyes.

Taybur was watching her with polite interest

"Very good, very good. Topabaw's spies could do no better. You don't have the taste of one of his, though. You're too good for him to employ.

"I assume the real reason you are here must have something to do with this interesting fellow." And suddenly, without pause or even a hint at what he was about to do, his hand gently touched her breastbone, tracing downwards with infinite delicacy, to touch the quivering head of the small darking. Despite the cool breeze that was stirring her hair she felt herself go hot at his touch, goosebumps prickling her skin an instant later. Swallowing, she stepped back. Her cool attitude vanished like smoke once it hits air, replaced by a stuttering, frightened, bumbling Aly that she hated. Nawat had cracked open the shell, but Taybur had completely bared her with one touch.

The squeak in her voice wasn't put on. "Sir, I- it's not—" At least the terror was still in her voice, though the cause of it was quite different, and it was fused with quite a different emotion.

Aly-maid should have said 'It's so improper, milord' and left immediately. But Aly-spy had other thoughts.

_Curse improper_, she thought mentally. Thoughts of Nawat drifted from her head like careless leaves. Here she was, seconds before shrugging off a touch that she was now longing for, begging for with her entire body. Aly had come a fair way from her flirting childhood days.

He smiled slowly, as though he hadn't noticed her step back.

"Interesting fellow, there. Spy?" He reached forward again, and this time she didn't move back. Part of her, the sensible spy part, was saying that he only wanted to get the darking out. But the other part of her wasn't thinking at all, merely enjoying his touch on her breastbone. Taybur carefully picked up the little darking, who, being an intelligent being, stayed silent and merely flopped around. She had rightfully named this darking Slyboots.

He inspected it closely. "A tricky little blighter. I don't want it near the prince; I asked you politely before."

"I don't know how he got there," she said, sounding panic-stricken. "Must be Topabaw's, I've never seen the devil of—"

Taybur shook his head, his boyish face splitting into a mocking grin. "Do you _ever_ learn?" He touched her cheek with the other hand. Their eyes met for a breathless second—her eyes astonished, his merely teasing, always teasing—and the words she had been planning so carefully caught in her throat and died. Seconds later, the darking was slipping down Aly's arm and into her small waist purse.

_Fun fun fun,_ it thought gleefully, watching Taybur's mouth locked with Aly's, her hands running up his chest, his softly stroking her hair. She was pushed against the wall of the palace, and he was moving down her neck, leaving a trail of kisses.

Well, it had heard that Secret was confused about love-making and kissing. Which came first? What followed? At least now it had a report to make—after all, it was going to be a busy night.

_A.N.: I know. It didn't happen. Sue me. But the plot-bunny ran wild, and I can dream, can't I? _


End file.
